A Crucial Vulnerability
by Weir the Warlock
Summary: A near fatal grave robbery forces the dark fellowship to address a serious weakness.
1. Chapter 1

**The Dark Fellowship**

 **A Crucial Vulnerability**

 **Chapter One**

The noon sun shone down on the small fortress once called Steelward Tower, then labeled Stoneruin, now known, at least by the four beings who presently inhabited, it as Kezreck's Keep. Path-Chak, the six-foot tall insect walking on two of his six limbs carried bags of feed into the stables. The three animals awaiting him were not horses but croltorm- tall reptilian beasts with claws on the forelegs and curved beaks on their snouts; once could forgivably be surprised to see them munch on the oats offered without complaint.

In the fort proper, the wizard Shoutanei sat on a cushion in the keep's library. A dark-skinned elf in a dark, thick robe, at his side lay his staff, made from the large femur of a beast whose identity was unknown even to him. In the days since he and his companions had consolidated their claim on the structure after driving out the last of the many monsters lairing with over time the dark elf had taken it upon himself to restore this room to its original purpose; after the group effort of clearing out the ruined books and converting the warped shelves that held them into cheap lumber he saw to it that a few intact, legible volumes of various lore now rested on newer shelves.

However, at the moment Shoutanei's attention was focused, as it frequently was, on the mural that took up an entire wall. In it high castles stood on islands of rock floating in a storm wracked sky, an image so vivid it seemed as though one was looking through a window instead of at a painted image.

"Hey," Shoutanei turned to see standing in the doorway a tall muscular figure with outstretched ears and a bearlike nose- Kezreck, his companion and the official 'owner' of the keep. The goblinoid looked at the mural then back to the dark elf, "Still wondering how that hasn't been ruined by now?"

"Among other things, yes," more than once Shoutanei had wondered out loud how, given all the creatures that had infested this structure over the years until the four had slain or ejected the last of them, the mural had somehow escaped any vandalism. The wizard had come to think the mural was more than a mere illustration.

"Have I ever told you of the Burning Shadows of Ki-Lin?" Shoutanei asked.

Kezreck's brow rose at the question, "Uh- no."

"My instructor in the Academy had a depiction of that place in his chambers," Shoutanei started, "An image of it on the floor, formed from various sands with different colors. But when the pools of magma outside the institute rose, it would cease to be a mere picture, but become a portal one could walk through to the dimension itself."

"Somehow that doesn't sound like the kind of place a smart person would go to- at least not voluntarily," Kezreck stated.

"Perhaps not," Shoutanei mused, "Yet it makes me wonder, if under certain conditions," the drow gestured to the mural, "That leads to somewhere as well."

"Even if it does, it doesn't look exactly hospitable either," Kezreck pointed out. Before Shoutanei could respond Path-Chak came to tell them Garadon had returned.

Being the only one of the four who could pass for someone not of the 'monster races', the doppelganger Garadon usually took it upon itself to acquire supplies from the nearby villages, wearing the form of a male human while doing so. At the moment 'he' unhooked his croltorm mount from a cart while the others gathered what they requested. Shoutanei took among other things, bundles of imported papyrus, books of blank pages and ink to write in them with; Path-Chak unloaded foodstuffs they were unable to grow or gather themselves, and Kezreck took the liquor.

As the bugbear studied the labels on the barrels of drink he looked disappointed, and turned to Garadon, "Weren't you going to look for wheat beer?"

"I did look for it," Garadon started, "They told me that years back Alsadar I passed some law saying wheat couldn't be used for beer- something about how it stops bakers from competing with brewers for the grain and helps keep the price of bread down."

Kezreck shook his head, grumbling in annoyance. After Garadon led his mount to the stables and fed it he joined them, "For what it's worth, I also overheard a pack of drifters asking about a crypt a few miles north of here- supposedly some very successful adventurers were buried in it- and likely some spoils of their quests with them."

The other three looked at him with interest, as they had yet to find a crypt they didn't like- to rob, at any rate.

About an hour after the sun set that night the four rode off, following the road due north. Eventually a small cemetery, and the tomb they sought came into view; heading off the road they tethered their animals to a tree in the bush and approached the crypt in a roundabout way.

It was when they came close to the crypt that they saw someone had beaten them to it. The entrance had been forced open, and multiple pairs of fresh footprints lead inside.

"Your drifters, perhaps," Shoutanei marked to Garadon, "Yet their tracks led in, but not back out- you know what that means?"

"It means whatever loot these guys were buried with should still be there," Kezreck said as he pushed forward, holding his spiked mace high.

Garadon looked at the other two, "That's what I like about him- always sees the tankard as half full." At that they followed the bugbear inside and down the steps.

The four found the crypt rather crowded. Five figures stood with their backs turned to the party, the weapons they once wielded lay abandoned on the ground. Another four stood facing their way, tools in hand, open sarcophagi behind them. These looked up with smiles on their shrivelled faces, red eyes aglow. The tomb-robbers that preceded the party turned to regard them with empty stares, stretching their arms out they shambled forwards.

Path-Chak raised with his lower arm a carved symbol of his insectoid deity and telepathically invoked a prayer to turn the walking dead. The zombies combusted, what little of their smoking husks dropped to the floor. The wights that commanded them looked on enraged; three charged with weapons drawn while the last raised a hand to cast a spell. Shoutanei reacted more quickly, sending M'Harl's Acid Arrow into the wight wizard's chest. Howling in rage, the undead magus duelled with the dark elf from opposite sides of the battle.

The blades of the would be plunderers before them, being mundane steel, were of little use against wights; unfortunately for the corpse warriors Kezreck, Garadon and Path-Chak had- in preparation for a past conflict with werewolves- had their weapons silver plated, which gave them a distinct advantage. Seeing its comrades struck down the wight wizard snarled, casting a spell it vanished in a flash of light.

Expecting a hostile presence at his back, Shoutanei wrapped both hands around his staff and swung it behind him with all his strength. The ball end of the staff collided squarely with the wight's face; its skull caved in by the enchanted weapon the undead wizard collapsed onto the tile beneath it, never to get back up.

Having disposed of their adversaries, the other three looked to see if Shoutanei was in danger. "I'm all right now," the dark elf assured them, "See what there is to appropriate, I shall do the same here."

After bludgeoning the wight's skull a few more times for good measure Shoutanei ruffled through the corpse's robes. He found a spellbook, though still legible its owner had, with the paranoia common among magi, written its contents in a cypher of his own invention that would take time to decode. A few spell scrolls that were also on its person were understandable enough though, one seemed that it might be particularly useful.

The other three however were disappointed with what they found, or the lack thereof, "Bloody hells," Kezreck grumbled, "If these bums were buried with anything good, somebody else showed up and stole it a long time ago."

"They didn't come through the front door," Garadon pointed out, "Its seal wasn't broken before tonight."

Noticing one sarcophagus spaced farther from the others, Path-Chak looked down to see drag marks on the floor leading to it. Getting the others' attention, he and Kezreck pulled the sarcophagus away from the wall to reveal an opening carved through it.

The opening led to a winding tunnel typical of the many passages in the Underdark; they followed it to a small cavity underground, finding the passage beyond blocked by a cave-in. From under the rubble stuck out a skeletal hand, though the flesh was gone the long, delicate bones indicated it was a drow hand.

"Look, over there," Kezreck pointed to his right. In the far end of the cavity lay a body; the body of a dwarf, judging from its height and width. The four approached it carefully, and had gotten within four feet when they saw the fallen dwarf, laying on his back held in his hands a crown crafted of iron with gemstones set within.

Path-Chak extended his polearm toward the crown, catching it in his blade and lifting it up when an apparition resembling a grey dwarf appeared.

"Flee, you fools!" the phantom screamed, "Even in death the dwarves guard what is theirs!" At this moment four spectral forms in the shape of dark elves emerged lunging in the direction of the party.

Shoutanei was the quickest, launching a volley of magic missiles that caught the lead spectre, causing damage and inflicting pain but not destroying it. Kezreck, overconfident by how he and the others had so easily slain the wights earlier, charged ahead before anyone could stop him.

But while his silver plated mace was lethal to the wights he found it passed through these new enemies harmlessly; two of them set upon the bugbear, their mere touch starting to drain the life from him as a third advanced cackling toward Garadon.

As he did with the wight-spawned zombies from the crypt Path-Chak invoked his god in an attempt to banish these phantoms. The one harmed by Shoutanei's spell screamed as it faded into oblivion, and the other's retreated. Path-Chak rushed toward Kezreck and began to heal him.

"That won't hold them off for long," Shoutanei stated as he pulled forth his recently acquired spell scroll, "Hold up your sword," he bade Garadon. As the thief did so Shoutanei read the spell out loud, as the scroll crumbled he touched the doppelganger's blade, which started to glow.

Unsure about this but trusting the drow in the past, Garadon stepped forward; sure enough, the three remaining spectres rushed upon him.

Garadon brought his sword down on the first in a vertical slash, it dispersed with a final shriek. The others froze long enough for him to destroy the next with a cut across its chest; it too vanished, as did the last when he stabbed through where its heart would've been, were it a creature of flesh and blood. When no more appeared he backed up and returned to his friends. Shoutanei ceased his concentration on Garadon's blade; as its glow faded they looked to Kezreck, both sighing in relief to see him restored by the thri-kreen's curative magic.

Shoutanei turned back to the dwarf body; picking up the crown, when the dwarf ghost reappeared he addressed it, "Who are you, and what is this crown?"

"I am- I was, the duergar Darrak," the ghost began, "And I considered myself a thief of great skill. Some time ago, I no longer know when, I broke my way into a crypt built for surface dwellers- and recognized the crown of the dwarf baron Baelmisar interred with one of them. I fled with the crown and a few other baubles to find the tunnel I came through collapsed- and the baron's ghostly warriors emerging from the rubble. They set upon and slew me as I cowered where my body now lays, as penance for my theft."

"Dwarves?" Shoutanei snarled, "Did those look like dwarves to you? More likely they were the spectres of drow who perished when your tunnel caved in by accident!"

Darrak's ghost suddenly looked embarrassed, "Oh- well it matters not," he looked down at his empty husk, "Please help me atone for my greed and see the crown returns to where it belongs." Seeing Shoutanei nod to humor him, the phantom vanished.

Getting to his feet Kezreck frowned as he asked, "We're not really going to do something as lame as take that back to its rightful owner, are we?"

Shoutanei glared at the bugbear, who had come so close to sharing Darrak's fate, "Let's just concentrate on returning home," the dark elf said, "I think we've had enough adventure for one night."


	2. Chapter 2

**The Dark Fellowship**

 **A Crucial Vulnerability**

 **Chapter Two**

The immense cavern contained a city of hundreds, thousands if one bothered to include those from the 'slave races'. Both stalagmites stabbing out of the cavern floor and stalactites hanging from the rock 'sky' were chiseled into elegant but sinister fortresses, sculpted as much by magic as by the labour of chattel. Those within concerned themselves as much, if not more, with the possibility of attack from their neighbours as with a threat from beyond their city. This was Veldrinor, city of the dark elves, the drow.

Within one of these sinister palaces, sat and brooded Matron Mala Draristra, a respected and feared Matron Mother in the city. Near the middle of her sixth century she still held on to the beauty of youth; her eyes a fiery red, platinum bands the shape of striking serpents wrapped around both slender arms.

Mala turned and looked out the window to her left. In the distance she saw a ruined manor of a drow family she had brought down to enhance the status of her own. House Grallmhyr had ruled among the great houses for millennia, outliving more than a few lesser families that attempted to rise by seeing its eradication when it appeared at its most vulnerable. But then its best and brightest had set out to plunder the treasures of the vault of a wizard on the surface world- and failed to return. When word from her spies reached Matron Mala that the warriors, clerics and a promising wizard sent on the expedition were weeks overdue, she knew they would not be coming back- and seized the opportunity. Now House Grallmhyr was barely a memory, while House Draristra had become a rising star.

It should have been enough. Yet when her agents found the vault the enemy expedition had found, they were unable to account for all of the participants. Communing with her goddess the dread spider queen had told her all but the wizard had died in that chamber; victims of his treachery. Where he had gone since, none knew.

This was a problem. Bad enough the mage had engineered the deaths of his sisters and servants and evidently deserted his people, but as the survivor of a slaughtered drow house, an accusation from him before the rest of the city could damn the family responsible for the attack. Even if he cared nothing for vengeance, there was the danger another house would seek him out and use his testimony against Draristra, either to advance further up or protect its position higher above.

Seeing a flash of light from the corner of her eye Mala reeled, drawing out a whip whose multiple lashes ended in live, venomous serpents. A foot above the floor hovered a puny biped with leathery wings and a tail capped with a sharp stinger. It wore a sickening grin and stank of sulphurous fumes.

"One day your carelessness will get you killed, Hashur," Mala threatened the imp.

Hashur shrugged, "I thought you want to hear the answers to your inquiries sooner than later, perhaps I should return another - "

"No!" Mala exclaimed, "You've finally found the wizard?"

"I have," Hashur affirmed. He told her of Shoutanei's likeness on wanted posters in the desert city Balaiassi alongside a bugbear and someone who might be human, how they returned alive from the worst of the wastelands alongside some strange insect-creature and successfully claimed a small fortress on the surface world.

"They're not above base crimes such as tomb robbing," the imp continued, "Yet neither are they averse to honest mercenary work- both the local king and a large and influential church have hired the four to complete missions they were reluctant to endanger their own people on. During the mission for the church the wizard dealt the final blow to a colossal spider called the devourer of souls."

Mala flinched at that. The devourer of souls was a favored 'pet' of her goddess Lolth, last she had heard the Spider Queen had left it in the custody of a demon lord who promised the Devourer would be well fed with the deaths of great heroes. She was unsure which bothered her more- whether this Shoutanei and his 'allies' would dare to harm such a blessed creature, or that they had the strength to succeed in killing it.

"You know where this fortress of theirs is?" she demanded, "What defenses it has?"

Hashur gave her what information he had for both questions. Mala marked it all down, and bade her imp servant return to the surface and continue monitoring the wizard and his unlikely companions.

In the library named for the first King Alsadar, Garadon sought to educate himself about the dwarf baron named Baelmisar. Though none confronted him or showed any overt hostility, he was not deaf, and heard the whispers around him.

"What kind of man keeps company with monsters?" one said- it took much effort to keep Garadon from answering an asexual shapeshifter only appearing to be a man.

"I heard his drow friend turned the company of the Black Moon into werewolves."

"I saw him in a tavern in Corthac buying drinks for everyone with coins no one recognized, then talk of some magic place where more treasure could be found waiting to be claimed- only nobody who followed his instructions has come back from it!"

Finally, a clerk approached him and politely but nervously asked if Garadon was looking for any information in particular. He told her he was interested in lore concerning Baelmisar, particularly any maps that might indicate his final resting place.

The clerk relaxed a little- as if she feared he was seeking to learn how to bring about the end of the world- and answered, "I do not know of such records- but then our archives are rather incomplete concerning such locations in other lands.

"You could inquire at the dwarfholds themselves but I would advise against that- if they heard a human asking about where one of their lords was buried they might assume him to be a tomb robber. I would suggest you consult the libraries in Truscia."

"I've been to Truscia recently," Garadon replied.

That evening Garadon returned and told Kezreck and Path-Chak that he would have to seek the information they desired in Truscia. Eager to see what booty might be interred with a dwarf baron, and ignoring Path-Chak's argument that if Baelmisar's crown was taken from his tomb it was likely any other treasures were as well Kezreck headed to the library expecting Shoutanei to be pondering the mural.

Though he sat in the library, the wizard paid no attention to the mural, instead he stared at two volumes before him- the spellbook he stole off the undead wizard and a formerly blank volume in which he recorded some of the spells from the former that he had successfully decoded. He didn't seem to hear the first two times Kezreck called his name; on the third he finally looked to the bugbear it was obvious he was still in the very uncharacteristic funk he'd been in since their encounter with the specters.

"Hey there- you alright?" Kezreck asked.

"Am I alright?" Shoutanei repeated, "Odd question, seeing as it was you who came to harm instead of me."

"This again?" Kezreck muttered, "Look, it's no big deal - "

"It's a very big deal," Shoutanei argued, "You charged toward an enemy none of us were prepared for and it almost got you killed! The only one in this keep- in this company with an enchanted weapon is me and of all of us I'm the least qualified for any fighting in close quarters."

"Yeah but that scroll you cast on Garadon's sword," Kezreck pointed out, "Didn't you say the same spell was in that dead-thing's spellbook? That you translated it?"

"Yes," Shoutanei began to answer, "But it only enchants one weapon per casting, and even then it only lasts for an hour and that's if I'm concentrating on it the whole hour- what if while I'm focused on Garadon's blade something that needs my attention – "

"OK, ok, I get it," Kezreck finally conceded, "We're vulnerable- but the way I see things we can either mope about this problem, or figure out what to do about it."

Shoutanei exhaled in relief that the bugbear finally heeded his point, then began to ponder the issue, "It's not easy to craft magic weapons in large numbers- even back in Veldrinor arms merchants never had more than a few enchanted blades to sell."

Kezreck nodded at this, "What about making our own- or enchanting the weapons we already got? Could you do that?"

"Possibly," Shoutanei considered the idea, "But it would take days, if not weeks to enchant one weapon- not to mention how much coin's worth of resources needed. Don't forget how much of our gains we spend just on our daily needs."

Kezreck nodded and mulled these words for a moment before saying, "Ok- you work out what you need- in time and these- resources. I'll stop by the crypt we visited and grab the weapons our zombie friends left on the floor, we can work on them if you'd rather not risk damaging the ones we already got. And as for expenses, we should have them covered once we visit Baron Baelmisar."

Shoutanei rolled his eyes at the goblinoid's obsession, "You're really fixated on finding and robbing that dwarf's tomb aren't you?"

"Well we got his crown, I don't like leaving tasks undone," Kezreck answered.

Garadon rode to Truscia, attracting much less attention without the others with him. His search there proved much more productive, with access to many records concerning the baron Baelmisar as well as maps that showed both the crypt's likely location in the dwarfholds and where they lay in relation to the keep.

He couldn't remove any of these records or maps from the library of course, but some of the gems the cathedral of Amaedea paid his party for their investigation into the disappearance of its clerics were enough to make it worth a clerk's while to draw up copies. By the time he returned to the keep Shoutanei had marked up a rough estimate of what he would need to enchant one melee weapon.

"Perhaps Kezreck's mace should be enchanted first," Shoutanei quipped, "Seeing as he likes to charge blindly into trouble."

"Hey, someone's got to stay between the enemy and you," the bugbear snapped back, "A dark elf is still a squishy elf."

In drow sign language Shoutanei expressed some very rude speculations concerning Kezreck's mother. Before things could escalate from there Garadon unfurled the copied maps of the territory where the dwarf baron was said to be interred.

"I suppose its better I bring this up now," Shoutanei started, "Once the four of us show up in dwarf country they're going to watch us like hawks, if not kill us on sight," he looked up at Kezreck, "Even should we find this crypt, just how do you plan on getting in, out and back to the keep with the baron's treasures under their vigilant gaze?"

"I thought about that," Kezreck smiled smugly, "And I decided we could use help."

The four waited at the end of the tunnel that led into the keep's former wine cellar. After a couple hours the help Kezreck spoke of emerged from another cavern mouth.

Two approached, at the lead was a tall humanoid covered in shaggy white fur with a face more bear-like than Kezreck. The creature, from a race called Quaggoths, wore studded leather armor, a shortsword hug at his hip and he clutched a light crossbow in his hand. Following him was a female duergar, or grey dwarf. Like the rest of her kin her grey-skinned scalp was devoid of any hair. She was garbed in splint mail crafted from mithral, strong enough to protect but light enough not to hinder attempts at stealth; in her hands she carried a sort of heavy hammer known as a maul.

Shoutanei recognized the two, and turned to Kezreck, "Corrag and Weltha?"

"I reached out to them a few days ago," Kezreck answered, "Seeing as we killed the giant that took both of them prisoner they decided to help us, and even agreed to a reduced share of the spoils as thanks."

Weltha lifted her maul reverently, "The chosen of Tharguerarn honour their debts."

Those words alarmed Shoutanei, looking more closely he saw her hammer was forged of adamantine and adorned with symbols holy to a particular grey dwarf god.

"You're a cleric," he hissed. Shoutanei had many memories of a life under priestesses, none of them pleasant; were he aware of her vocation he very likely would have chosen to let the formorian drag her and Corrag off to their doom.

"What of it?" Weltha snarled.

Kezreck turned to the drow, "You didn't think something was up when you saw her grow to nine feet tall in a second?"

"All grey dwarves can do that," Shoutanei told him. Kezreck's eyes bulged at this statement, and he looked to Weltha for confirmation.

She nodded, "We can also do this," she abruptly vanished, "For a time at least," her voice sounded from where she disappeared, then she dispelled the invisibility.

"Yes, we're all impressed," Garadon interrupted, then said to Shoutanei, "And I think it's a little counter productive to let bad memories ruin a possibly profitable alliance."

Shoutanei nodded reluctantly before asking Corrag, "Kezreck thinks you can help us reach Baelmisar's crypt unnoticed- how?"

"There's a large, extensive cavern beneath the border of the land where your keep was built and the high hills claimed by the dwarves," Corrag answered, "Near its end on your side of the border is a passage leading up to a cave well hidden in a hill, it should be wide and high enough to accommodate you and your mounts, as both drow and duergar cavalry have used it to raid the surface world on different occasions."

Kezreck turned to ask Shoutanei what creatures from underground could be ridden, anticipating the question the dark elf said, "The drow often domesticate large lizards to ride; I'm told the duergar favor giant tarantulas called steeders."

Shoutanei however had a different question and looked to Corrag, "What about the rest of this pocket under these nations?"

"Flat terrain and wide open space," Corrag assured.

"And it stretches far enough under the hills to reach where we desire?"

"It might," Corrag said, "Of course it would help to be sure if we knew where the location is on the surface."

Garadon unfurled the copy of the map he acquired from the Truscia library on the cavern floor; as darkvision could not distinguish colors Shoutanei cast a continual light cantrip to make reading the map easier.

The quaggoth and duergar studied the map intently. Weltha saw where the crypt of Baelmisar was marked on the map.

Shoutanei saw her frown and asked, "What's wrong?"

"The cavern of which Corrag spoke- it ends west of where this tomb was placed," She placed her finger down at the spot where the cavern terminated.

Kezreck looked to see the distance between her finger and the tomb's marking then looked to the map's scale, "It's not too far, a few hundred feet as the crow flies. As long as we keep a straight line in the right direction it shouldn't be too much trouble to dig the rest of the way there."

"What kind of terrain would we be digging through?" Garadon asked Corrag.

"At an angle up toward the crypt, you'd have to get through about ten feet of hard rock," Corrag estimated, but past that it should be soft soil the rest of the way."

"And where would we put all that soil?" the wizard brought up.

"A deep, wide crevasse stretches along the southern edge of the cavern," Weltha answered, "We could dump the dirt in it, assuming nothing lives at the bottom."

Shoutanei looked to Kezreck, "You sure all this is worth it? All that digging for potentially nothing? I'm sorry but I agree with Path-Chak on this- if Darrak found the baron's crown buried with those adventurers, they probably stole it, and likely anything else that might have been interred with Baelmisar."

"You heard his ghost, he didn't find much other than the crown," Kezreck pointed out.

"Because they probably fenced the rest and what wasn't pissed away on fine wine and good living went into building that fancy crypt!" Shoutanei countered.

"What's the worst that could happen?" Kezreck started, "If I'm wrong, we all get a little exercise. But if I'm right, you could walk away with more than enough to fund your work on crafting magic weapons for the rest of us."

"And that's assuming we don't find some we can use already," Garadon pointed out.

Both Corrag and Weltha sided with him, looking to the thri-kreen Shoutanei was surprised to see even Path-Chak nod in agreement.

"Fine," Shoutanei finally assented, pointing to Kezreck he added, "But you're doing the bulk of the digging," then addressing all the others, "I suggest we make whatever preparations are needed then get some sleep. Corrag, you'll have to guide us to this passage you insist can accommodate us and our mounts, we'll set aside sleeping quarters for you and Weltha- unless you two would rather share – "

"Separate quarters will do just fine," Corrag answered; turning to Weltha he asked, "Honestly, why do people always make that assumption about us?"

Back in her manse in the underground city of Veldrinor Matron Mala listened as her little spy informed her on the venture Shoutanei and his allies were about to undertake.

Hashur saw her sinister smile, he asked "Who will you send to punish them?"

"No need to gamble any of my own soldiers," Mala grinned, "I know of a team more qualified to bring about their retribution- the Hand of Vengeance will crush them all…"


	3. Chapter 3

**The Dark Fellowship**

 **A Crucial Vulnerability**

 **Chapter Three**

Sitting on a cushion on the keep library's floor, Shoutanei had two open volumes before him. In his own spellbook he marked down something from the other tome- also a spellbook, but formerly in the possession of an enemy he had slain, a wizard turned walking dead. Decoding the wight's grimoire had been difficult but was rewarded in the form of magical knowledge he had gained from the labour- a recent translation in particular may prove useful in the undertaking to come.

Hearing Kezreck's approaching footsteps, Shoutanei said without looking in the bugbear's direction, "I've copied a new spell. I'll only be able to prepare two castings and I won't able to cast cloudlkill, but they should make the excavation much easier."

"Good to know," Kezreck said, though inwardly he was nervous about the drow not being able to gas multiple enemies they might encounter, "Garadon just came back with digging tools that should help better than that rusty spade we got for the croltorm stalls."

"What about our assistants?" the drow asked.

"Weltha's helping the others pack, Corrag took off through the wine cellar entrance- said he would meet us at the secret passage he spoke of before with their steeders."

Shoutanei nodded at this, but the goblinoid could tell he was less than convinced, "What the hells are you worried about?" Kezreck asked, "Seems like easy money to me."

"Very easy," the drow acknowledged, "That's what has me worried."

On another sphere across the void, vengeance was at hand. Raised off the ground by the strongest of mortal magics a mountain sculpted into a fortress hovered in the air. Ballistae and catapults lined the turrets chiseled out of the rock, dwarven sharpshooters stood vigilant with heavy crossbows at the ready.

This was Czadkiel Hold- home, fortress and capitol of the mightiest dwarf nation upon this world. Barely a month before the warriors and wizards of this castle-city had not only thwarted a drow incursion on a human nation, but had taken the fight to the enemy itself, battering into and razing the drow city responsible; every stalagmite on the cavern floor leveled, every hanging stalactite manor torn from the ceiling sky.

The queen of spiders would not suffer such a double humiliation; already drow in other Underdark cities mobilized for an offensive, fearing her wrath more than any dwarf. But first the great tactician who made the defeat possible, King Drohgan, would need to be disposed of- and efforts toward this were underway.

In the very center of the mountain capitol four seasoned warriors flanked the entrance to Drohgan's chambers, each holding a halberd in both hands. But recent victories and the illusion of Czadkiel being impenetrable had made these guards complacent. When the sweetheart of one showed up and motioned for him to follow her around a corner the others let him go with a wink and a nudge.

The two lovebirds made their way around the corner; as the guard leaned in to snuggle he noticed his sweetheart wore a new necklace, yet before he could inquire about it she pressed her lips to his. As the vitality drained from him into her his skin shrivelled, his body seemed to shrink thin.

Catching the dwarf guard's body and lowering it gently to the floor without making noise, the succubus Sierona took on her true form. Plucking two pearls from her necklace she dropped them on the stone floor. From one emerged Phauman, a handsome dark elf with a cruel cast to his face, from the other Vinter, a being who resembled a drow male from the waist up, but whose body extended from a spider's thorax. He scaled the high wall on his arachnid legs while his 'pure' drow compatriot cast a spell of haste, then invisibility upon himself before whipping around the corner to engage the other dwarves.

The guards knew nothing until Phauman was upon him, rapier in one hand poignard in the other. His attack dispelled the invisibility yet he moved so quickly it hardly mattered; in the time it took the dwarf to start lowering his halberd the drow- proficient in the art of bloodshed as well as magic- had found gaps in the dwarf's armor and pierced through them multiple times. Seeing their comrade fall the other two guards readied themselves to charge- yet one of them suddenly froze as still as statuary. Dropping from the ceiling to behind the victim of his 'hold person' spell, Vinter struck down the immobile guard with but one swing of his mace. Realizing the odds were against him the final guard chose to warn his lord of the danger; he bolted past the door to the king's chambers, a barrier of near unbreakable granite slammed down behind him.

The three intruders knew by the time they broke the barrier down the king would have been moved from the mountain- but they also knew where he would go for refuge. Sierona dropped the last pearl from her necklace to the floor and released a monstrosity with a vaguely humanoid face on a leonine body, his tail ending with a mass of sharp spines, his entire body- including the wings folded against his back- covered in dark purple scales. Altered by drow wizardry into a hybrid of manticore and deep dragon, a species of wyrm little known to surface dwellers, the creature named Drak took point as the four advanced toward one of the fortress turrets.

The guard escorted King Drohgan into a sealed elevator car; seconds later an elder air elemental, bound to this location propelled the car up the vertical shaft all the way to Czadkiel's summit where a strange creature called a phantom flyer awaited. Lashing himself on the creature's back he blew the silver whistle that hung on his neck for such an occasion and the creature took to the air.

Expecting attack from without, the dwarves were caught off guard from behind. As they spun around Drak exhaled a burst of gas that deprived the dwarven warriors of their senses long enough to fall to his ejected tail spikes. Looking up the invaders made out the phantom flyer; Phauman and Vinter hopped on Drak's body as Sierona, outside the fortress proper and its barriers to magical intrusion, shifted to the ethereal plane.

The phantom flyer touched down far from Czadkiel, landing atop a small outpost from which the dwarf king intended to move to another location. Hearing and seeing no one, Drohgan nervously dismounted and made for the nearest guard post. He froze on seeing two dwarf warriors who had been dead at least a day. Knowing somehow all staffed here had shared the same fate and his location compromised he ran back to mount the phantom flyer.

Drohgan had barely lashed himself in place when, with a horrible shout an eighteen-foot tall fiend with skin the color of stone leapt from nowhere, holding high in both hands a sword of black steel with red runes glowing along the blade's length. The stone giant swung his sword and beheaded the phantom flyer with one stroke; its body crashed along its side, trapping Drohgan in the process. As the dwarf king struggled to free himself, if only to go down fighting the giant named Berkurt stepped around the flyer's body. Looking down at the dwarf king he started to lift his blade but stopped; instead, with a sadistic smile, he lifted a leg to stomp down on Drohgan's skull…

Their grisly task completed the Hand of Vengeance, the chosen assassins of the Spider Queen retreated to her sinister embrace in the abyssal layer called the Demonweb Pits. Drak stalked into his den, looked upon the collection of gems and precious metals stashed within. Much of the hoard was originally gathered here by his equally materialistic predecessor- a being Drak had personally killed in an attack from behind to gain his place in the strike team, as well as his loot. Opening his toothy maw, the manticore in deep dragon skin spat out slightly chewed but mostly intact pieces of mithral armor with fine gems set within- spoils, for lack of a better word, from the dwarf guards slain in the operation. He would have collected their weapons as well, if not for the memory of the internal injuries incurred in a past incident when he swallowed a paladin's fancy sword. Curling up around his treasure, Drak settled into a blissful sleep; he enjoyed a few hours of rest before he and the others were summoned again.

The five of them gathered in a 'chapel', awaiting their overseer Jaggedra Thul. Sierona felt Phauman's filthy hand stroking her thigh; telepathically she warned him to remove it or she would tell Jaggedra of the times he claimed to have seduced their mistress- suddenly Phauman found a reason to move to the other side of the group.

Seconds after Phauman sat back down the leader of the squad appeared in a cloud of smoke that stunk of sulfur. Jaggedra Thul was tall for a drow, physically she resembled others of the race except that instead of smooth dark skin her body was covered in smooth dark scales and she wore a scowl intimidating even for dark elves.

"Listen up, worms," as Jaggedra addressed her inferiors an image of a particular drow wizard took form before her, "This is Shoutanei of House Grallmhyr. A promising wizard, he betrayed his family and his people on an expedition to the surface world where he brought about the deaths of his siblings so he could desert his kind.

"Since then he has associated himself with a shapeshifter, a lowly goblinoid and an insect-person whose race is said to enjoy the taste of elves, both proper drow and their mongrel surface-dwelling cousins. Worse, we have learned from communion with one of Lolth's clerics on the sphere Shoutanei calls home that he and his companions, while trapped on the demonic game preserve known as the Maze, caused the death of a creature quite sacred to our queen- a colossal spider feared on many worlds as the Devourer of Souls.

"This is the straw that broke the lizard's back- our goddess has demanded you five drag this heretic and traitor screaming back into her embrace, along with the two-legged beasts he keeps company with. According to an infernal spy for the cleric who brought his sins to our notice, they have set out from their fortress to find and plunder the grave of a dwarf noble- you will ambush them there."

Jaggedra waited for any questions they might be fool enough to bother her with; after a brief span with none fore coming she cast a Gate spell. The assassins she briefed rushed through the portal into an Underdark cavern on the prime world Shoutanei and his allies called home.

On that world, in the light of dawn, four croltorm sped away of from Kezreck's Keep with their respective riders on their backs. Weltha held on tight to Path-Chak; as he was the lightest despite also being the tallest his mount could carry the both of them with little difficulty. Time passed, eventually the border to the territory of the hill dwarves came into sight, albeit still a long ride away.

"Stop here," Weltha exclaimed, pointing toward a low hill with a patch of brush growing on the side. They dismounted and Weltha sped toward the brush, then pulled it aside- cut into the dirt mound was a descending tunnel wide enough to admit all four. Though the taller of their number had to keep their heads low, they rode down without difficulty. At the end of the passage they found Corrag waiting atop his steeder, holding the bridle to another with no rider, whom Weltha climbed atop. The two pressed forward astride the large arachnids, the four spurred their mounts to keep up.

The lot of the expedition finally found themselves at the eastern end of the great cavity beneath the dwarfholds. As Weltha said, a gaping chasm ran along the southern edge of it; Shoutanei, Garadon and Corrag peered over its edge to see it descended far past the range of their darkvision. Picking up a nearby pebble Garadon casually dropped it into the gorge- a minute passed and none heard any sound that would have suggested the stone struck the chasm floor.

Stepping away from the chasm, they determined the likely direction they would need to dig to reach Baelmisar's tomb. Ushering the others to the side, Shoutanei backed up just over a hundred feet away from the cavern wall- almost as far as the maximum range for his new spell. Staff in hand, he made the gestures and spoke the words.

Before the surprised eyes of the others a large section of the cavern wall and ceiling suddenly changed from unyielding rock to mud, dropping from above and spreading over the cavern floor. Hearing the wizard instruct them to step away even farther they did so; they were safely out of range when he detonated a fireball in the air above the mud, the heat from the spell drying most of it instantaneously.

A short moment later Corrag stepped toward the gap in the rock caused by the spell, walking up the ramp formed of now dried mud. Reaching out with one hand he dug his claws past the strata into soil.

The quaggoth looked to the others and nodded, "We got past the hardest of it, should be easy digging the rest of the way."

Lashed onto the saddle on Kezreck's croltorm were two digging tools reminiscent of a hoe, but with longer, thicker blades more suited for tunneling than tilling gardens. He unpacked the tools and took one in hand while Weltha gripped the other and Path-Chak unloaded a large but empty barrel. Shoutanei, Garadon and Corrag took on the role of watchmen while the others began to dig.

On a ledge, far past their darkvision something slept- something that had yet to be disturbed by the dumping of dirt on it from above.

On the same side of the chasm, at another ledge a tunnel twisted and turned leading into another pocket beneath the surface in which four figures stood. Sierona nervously fingered her necklace, on which hung a new pearl that magically contained the massive Drak. Phauman and Vinter each nervously paced opposite sides of the pocket, both eager to get the killing done with. Against the wall of stone leaned Berkurt, shrunk down to a size that would find negotiating the tunnels more easily by an enchanted belt allowing its wearer to take on and maintain a reduced form. The giant still towered over the other three, but resented his diminished state nevertheless. At the moment, with a magic ring of tremorsense on a hand against the stone he waited for vibrations in the earth that would alert them to the excavation their prey was said to be undertaking.

"Well?" Phauman spat impatiently.

Somehow finding the will not to unsheathe his blade and bisect the arrogant drow Berkurt turned to face him, "Feel digging," the giant was of few words, "Could be umber hulks. Could be young purple worm."

"Could it be our target?" Phauman patronizingly asked; when Berkurt nodded the dark elf rolled his eyes, "Do you really think it such a likely coincidence that some umber hulks would be digging the same direction as they are?"

Berkurt shook his head, less out of agreement than out of a desire to shut Phauman up.

Sierona threw out her shoulders and, as typical when Jaggedra Thul was on another plane or at least out of earshot, presumed to command the rest, "We will give them enough time to enter the tomb they seek- when they are bottled up inside it we shall make it the resting place for their bodies as well."

The others made groans of annoyance which the succubus ignored, but conceded to her choice of strategy. She strode into the passage and they followed, Phauman contemplating the potential consequences of running her through from behind. Ultimately he decided against it- pompous though she be, Sierona was still one of Lolth's chosen, and would reconstitute herself in the Demonweb Pits and his goddess herself would hear of what he had done and punish him.

At the other end of the passage the opposite side of the chasm was visible, as was the cavern ceiling above. Just beyond their darkvision was a ledge with what they assumed to be boulders resting on top. Sounds from above caught their ear; looking up they saw significant amounts of dirt dumped into the crevasse from above.

High above Kezreck and Weltha hacked into the soil before them, digging it away. Behind them Path-Chak gathered the dirt into the barrel and carried it off to dump it into the crevasse. He'd just returned from making another one of such dumps when everyone's attention was drawn by the sounds of tools striking stone. Though afraid to get too excited- it could easily be just a rock- they gathered as the bugbear and duergar tentatively resumed their digging- soon they uncovered a wall of flat stones mortared on top of each other- they had reached Baron Baelmisar's tomb at last.

Shoutanei came closer to the wall, touching it as he cast a spell to detect magic. Suddenly he backed away, his eyes wide; looking to the others he said, "The stone's been enchanted, probably to keep out intruders with teleportation magic or entering from the ethereal plane- either way I can't reduce it to mud like I did the rock before."

"So we got to break in the hard way?" Kezreck asked.

Shoutanei nodded.

The bugbear grinned, "Good," at that he and Weltha went about chipping at the mortar that held the blocks together. They eventually weakened four seems of mortar surrounding a block enough to pull it away, with Path-Chak's muscle contributing they hauled the stone to the crevasse and pitched it over before heading back for another.

The thing below stirred. Its rest uninterrupted for centuries, it felt clumps of soil from above falling onto its back. It was almost fully awake when the dumping of soil stopped, then it settled back into slumber, ignorant of stone blocks falling past it.

It was the last block the party from above would dump that shattered right on the ledge beside the creature, both the noise and sensation of sharp stone fragments slicing into its snout that would finally rouse it. Snorting and growling, it hissed as it stood- then hearing something from behind and above, whipped its head around.

Behind and above it from just over a hundred and ten feet away, near the limit of the thing's darkvision, it saw four creatures emerge from a passage atop another ledge along the crevasse. One stood on eight legs, the other three each on two. The eight-legged being managed to adhere to the cliff wall and quickly scaled it on its own, whilst two of the others plucked something from their waists (the thing having never seen humanoids drink from bottles) which they seemed to consume something from. Throwing the objects over the ledge on which they stood the two took to the air in the same direction as the eight-legged creature. The third threw something to the floor before her, on that spot a winged beast materialized; it leapt up and dug into the cliff wall with its claws, using them to scale it, finally the last two-legged being sprouted wings which carried her in the same direction as the others.

None of these strange animals seemed to have noticed the thing- but it noticed them. It realized as it started to adhere to the cliff wall itself that it was curious- and after so long a hibernation- hungry as well.

Drak stopped climbing just below the lip of the crevasse; digging deep into the rock with his claws he awaited instructions from Sierona. The succubus and her fellow assassins kept behind stalagmites and out of their quarry's darkvision; this meant their prey was too far for them to see also, but as they knew where the renegade and his allies were going that was little of an issue.

The thri-kreen, bugbear and duergar joined up with their compatriots at the tomb wall. Enough of the blocks comprising it had finally been removed to admit them passage; with a mixture of nervousness and hopeful greed, the six of them stepped into the final resting place of the dwarf baron Baelmisar…


	4. Chapter 4

**The Dark Fellowship**

 **A Crucial Vulnerability**

 **Chapter Four**

They stepped inside the tomb cautiously, on the lookout for traps or guardians. To Kezreck's disappointment, the tomb looked downright austere. No piles of coin, no heaps of jewels. In the center of the open space lay a humble, unadorned sarcophagus; to the left of it stood a lectern with an open book atop it. The only open signs of wealth were the few but large gems set within four suits armour, one standing in each corner, gripping a masterwork axe with both arms.

The bulk of the party backed out, stepping aside for Garadon to check for any traps in the floors. He found none, all the same when he motioned the others inside they could not help but share a feeling of potential dread.

Walking up to one of the suits of armour, Kezreck tapped on the breastplate; satisfied that the sounds from within indicated it was hollow, he went back to the others.

While the sarcophagus looked plain to the eye, Shoutanei used detection magic to discover glyphs of warding set into the stone- any who disturbed it without dealing with them first would pay dearly for the sacrilege, possibly with his life. Fortunately, in his possession the drow wizard had several scrolls of dispel magic; drawing them out and reading them one by one he defeated the enchanted safeguards.

The glyphs done with, Garadon began to inspect the sarcophagus for more mundane countermeasures. While he worked Shoutanei nervously eyed the suits of armor; it occurred to him he had neglected to give them any attention with his detect magic spell- as Garadon found and disabled a device set to flood the crypt with poison gas the suits of armor moved as one- stepping from their corners toward the trespassers.

"Attack!" Shoutanei yelled, thinking there was not enough time to say 'we're under'; the others responded immediately. Kezreck snarled as he slammed his mace into the arm of the suit that attacked him; the force of the blow crumpling the hollow armguard and twisting the axe so it fell from the suit's grip, the bugbear them smashed the suit's helmet and breastplate pounding it into the ground. Corrag and Path-Chak leapt over the sarcophagus and charged one of the suits with shortsword and gythka, respectively; Weltha charged a third, with her maul. The fourth suit raised its axe high swinging it down on Shoutanei, but the mage had not been idle; enchanted staff in one hand he parried the axe while his free hand made the gestures for a rusting grasp spell at the same time chanting the right words. Finishing the incantation, he struck the suit with that free hand- the steel comprising the armour and axe corroded to dust.

By the time he looked away the other suits had been totaled, he and his companions breathing heavily.

"Damn," Kezreck grunted, "That was a nasty surprise."

"Yes," Shoutanei agreed, "And I'm not certain it's over yet- Garadon, try to disable another trap. The rest of you, be ready."

They were unsure what to be ready for but held their weapons up anyway. Garadon detected something else, the second he disabled it, the three remaining axes took to the air spinning toward the intruders; if not already on their guard the blades would likely have slashed them to ribbons. But they were, and Kezreck, Corrag and Weltha battered the airborne axes to the floor and smashed them before they could rise again.

"Animated weapons in the hands of animated armor," Shoutanei muttered, "I hope whoever enchanted this tomb is burning in – Kezreck, what are you doing?" he said as he saw the bugbear go to and crouch over one of the smashed guardians.

Kezreck plucked an emerald loose from the ruined breastplate and held it up high for the dark elf to see, "Hey, we might as well get something from these guys, for all the trouble they gave us." The others nodded at this this, and then began to pry gems from the other suits- though with the one Shoutanei had destroyed he needed only to pick them up from the heap of powder.

The smashed suits of armour picked clean Garadon turned back to the sarcophagus; when he found and disarmed the final trap it was to everyone's relief that nothing happened. Kezreck and Path-Chak hefted the lid of the sarcophagus and heaved it over to the side, then everyone peered within.

Baron Baelmisar lay inside, though his head was bare he wore fine armour whose breastplate had been visibly breached multiple times. A shortsword was sheathed at his hip, in both hands he held a flanged mace almost as long as he was tall.

Thinking the cudgel worthy of a mighty bugbear, Kezreck reached forward to grab the mace bur Shoutanei intercepted his wrist.

"Let me identify it first," the wizard cautioned, "After all this I wouldn't put the bastards who set this up above leaving cursed weapons." At this Kezreck's eyes bulged; he nodded and withdrew his arm.

First Shoutanei cast Identify on the mace; when he learned what he sought he repeated the spell and touched the shortsword to learn what it was. Neither turned out to be cursed; Kezreck grabbed the mace while Shoutanei removed the sword and presented it to Garadon, telling him unlike with the mace, the doppelganger would need to go through a lengthy attunement process to benefit from the sword's magic.

"Looks like nobody broke in here before," Kezreck observed, "So how come his crown's back at the keep while the rest of his stuff is here?"

They looked to the lectern. Garadon looked it over just to be sure it was not trapped (after all that happened so far he was understandably a little suspicious) he removed the book; looking it over to see it was written in four-hundred-year-old dwarfish, he handed the volume to Weltha, who started to read the last pages out loud, "He threw himself into the fray, swathing through the goblin masses, he bellowed for us to get our children and grandmothers to safety- he would hold off the wretched vermin…"

"Hey," Kezreck snarled, "Those are my cousins he's talking about."

"When a party of us finally went back for him he lay before a mound of dead goblins; half a dozen of their blades stuck out of his breastplate, and the diminutive bastards had taken likely the one thing they could carry away quickly- the baron's crown."

They all looked to each other, "Well that solves part of the mystery," Shoutanei said, "If the goblins retreated with the crown, they likely kept it as an heirloom."

"Passed down to later goblins who had the bad luck to cross paths with the adventurers," Garadon continued, "They killed the goblins, claimed the crown- they might not even have realized what they found and held on to it."

Kezreck smirked at Shoutanei, "And you were worried all this was for – "suddenly he stopped, in the distance the croltorm could be heard shrieking, "Son of a – somebody's messing with our mounts!"

Sure enough, when they bolted outside two figures were facing the croltorm and steeders, a drow male and what the party at first mistook for a human until they saw her horns and a tail whipping out from behind her- though she carried no bridle or lash she somehow calmed and controlled the beasts without touching them.

By the time Shoutanei realized what was going on it was too late; they'd barely made it five feet past the ramp of dried mud something froze the lot of them in place, from behind above and to their left they could hear a voice chanting a hold spell.

The drow before them turned in their direction, his face twisted in a smug sneer, "The crafty Shoutanei- how disappointing. You and your 'friends' let yourselves get attached to mere animals, to the point you charge blindly into danger to save them…

"But then I suppose your foolish compassion for them has made this a lot easier," the drow Phauman looked to the crevasse, "All right Drak, let's get this over with."

This whole time Drak had clung to the cliff while by virtue of his sharp claws, looking straight up he had not noticed the thing below him- the thing that had silently adhered to the cliff surface, quietly creeping up closer and closer…

When Drak lunged, so did the thing.

He barely hauled his forequarters over the chasm lip when the thing bit down on his right flank- as it dragged him down he exhaled into the open air, not the party.

The whole spectacle caught Phauman, Sierona and Vinter off guard- so much so that the latter stopped concentrating on his hold spell. By then the party realized they were free and they did not waste it. Path-Chak flung one of his two chatkcha- a triangular-shaped throwing blade behind him in the direction of Vinter's chanting; it bit deep into the drider's skull, his corpse dropped from the stalactite it had clung to and fell into the chasm. At the same time that the blade was thrown Shoutanei had cast his other transmute spell; which he directed toward the ceiling above Phauman and Sierona.

About forty cubic feet of muck came crashing down on their heads; the croltorm and steeders barely managed to dodge it themselves. The animals rushed to rejoin their riders, who mounted them and turned to flee west. From behind a stalagmite in front of them Berkurt emerged holding his sword at the ready. He willed the magic in his belt to cease, reverting to his massive true size- giving Shoutanei precious seconds to hurl a volley of magic missiles into the giant's midsection. Dropping his sword, Berkurt hunched over in pain; as he and his companions ride past Kezreck used the opportunity to christen his newly acquired mace on Berkurt's skull. The giant fell to the floor.

Pulling themselves to their feet Phauman and Sierona rushed to Berkurt. Though his breastplate kept the magic missile barrage from killing him outright the damage it did, in combination with being clipped by the bugbear's cudgel had rendered him unconscious.

Phauman drew a potion of healing from his belt; a sound from behind caused him and Sierona to turn their heads- what they saw made Phauman drop the bottle, it smashed open on the stone beneath, spilling all over the ground.

Some horrible creature- presumably whatever assaulted Drak- had hauled itself out of the crevasse, and now advanced upon them. Sierona saw Phauman freeze in fear, saw Berkurt curled into a fetal position.

'Sorry, comrades,' Sierona thought to herself as she shifted to the Ethereal Plane, 'But the mission must come first.' Sierona gave not even a backward glance to those that she had abandoned.

Some distance away the dark fellowship and their two temporary companions paused for their mounts to catch their breath. Remembering the drow among their assailants addressed Shoutanei, Kezreck asked the wizard "Who in the Hells were those guys?"

"The Hand of Vengeance," Shoutanei answered, "The elite killers of the goddess Lolth- it seems we finally proved worthy of her attention at last."

"Elite killers?" Kezreck raised a brow, "And we got past them that easily?"

Path-Chak countered that the party would never have gotten past them at all, were it not for something that dragged the creature they heard called Drak back down the chasm.

"We have to assume at least one of them survived," Shoutanei stated, "And even if they did not, they answered to a far more powerful servant of Lolth.

"The keep won't be safe- they will not stop until they have hunted us down – "the dark elf wizard looked to Corrag and Weltha, "All of us."

The duergar and quaggoth took his meaning well, they would need to find a place to make a last stand; thinking on it something came to Corrag, "I might know a place."

Returning to their temporary redoubt on this sphere, Sierona emerged from the ethereal plane; As she grabbed a few items left here she tried to think of a way to salvage the situation. That monster had undoubtedly killed Drak, and likely Phauman and Berkurt as well; though she would have deserted the them again no matter how many times over she knew their souls would have squealed on her when they returned to the Abyss. If she hoped to avoid Jaggedra Thul's- and by extension Lolth's wrath-

A sound behind her alerted the succubus she was already too late; she spun and dropped to her knees in obeisance as Jaggedra Thul stepped out of a gate that closed shut behind her. The commander of the Hand of Vengeance glared down on Sierona.

"You fled from the enemy," Thul accused, "You abandoned your teammates."

"I made a strategic withdrawal," Sierona spat out while holding back from reminding Thul she never held any of them in such high esteem, "To strike back at the traitor and his allies, to punish them – "

"Oh you intend to take them on all by yourself?" Thul chuckled.

Sierona looked up, her expression one of sheer desperation, "We can do it- if we return to the Demonweb Pits, gather new forces – "

"I don't think you realize the severity of the situation," Thul growled, "The Spider Queen is angry at *both* of us over this debacle- we do not dare return until the deed is done."

Corrag led them into a large cavern with no exit, the bulk of it occupied by massive growths of fungi giving off a strange, orange-yellow glow.

"Nobody I know can explain it," he said as they dismounted, "But something about the glow that fungi gives off acts like some sort or antimagic radiation- no spells or enchanted gear will function if caught in it."

"Yeah, but doesn't that mean our magic won't work here?" Kezreck asked.

"It does," as Shoutanei rested his staff in the crook of his arm he pulled something from his robe- a drow hand crossbow, which he began to string and load, "Still raises our odds- though not by much." Corrag headed for the back of the cavern leading the animals with them; the others took up positions, Path-Chak changing the colour of his shell to match the surroundings where he hid.

A few hours later Thul, Sierona and the 'help' they had assembled gathered at one end of the tunnel leading to the fungal cavern.

"You will usher the creatures into the cavern ahead of you," Thul commanded the succubus, "While the prey is distracted and overwhelmed you will follow and make sure they are all slain."

Sierona frowned at this- it was obvious Thul was sending her to serve in the same capacity as their 'new recruits'- as arrow fodder. But she nodded and obeyed, knowing she had far better chances of survival obeying Thul then defying her.

After who knew how long of waiting for the onslaught the party's patience was finally rewarded, if in the loosest sense of the word. Shrieks and caws filled the air as a mass of beings with crows' bodies on feathered but otherwise humanoid frames rushed toward them. Shoutanei recognized the race as dire corbies; he briefly wondered where the enemy had gathered the creatures or how they controlled them but that was immaterial- levelling his hand crossbow, and thinking their strategy may have been flawed as he could not cast fireballs here, he fired.

Despite how long it had been since Shoutanei used the weapon his aim was true- the bolt took a dire corbie square in the eye, its body tripping up those right behind it as it fell. One of Garadon's arrows went right through a dire corbie's chest and impaled another. Both wizard and thief took down another each before the mob was upon them.

Kezreck howled as he bashed in a dire corbie's head while Weltha's maul took down two in one swing. Garadon shot down three more before dropping his bow then drawing his sword and charging in to help Kezreck and Weltha while Shoutanei stayed back with his hand crossbow.

He'd just reloaded the hand crossbow when from past the range of the fungal radiation a dart appeared from nowhere and struck Shoutanei's arm. Suddenly it fell slack and numb, until it healed, if ever, he wouldn't be able to reload. Then as she entered the cavern Sierona's invisibility was dispelled; as they struggled with the few dire corbies left she slashed Kezreck and Garadon with a dagger, the venom coating it caused their whole bodies to seize up and fall. Somehow the normally undisciplined dire corbies found it in themselves to leave the now easy targets and mob Weltha. Dropping the hand crossbow Shoutanei charged forward with his staff in his one working hand.

Sierona stepped close enough to strike the overwhelmed Weltha when, dispensing with the camouflage, Path-Chak leapt out from between two fungal clusters; quickly skittering to behind the succubus, he grabbed her wrists from behind with his stronger upper arms while his lower right arm stabbed her in the belly with his remaining chatkcha, which he then pulled upward, slicing her open from navel to jawbone. She screamed as her physical form discorporated.

At this point Shoutanei got close enough to brain one of the dire corbies wrestling with Weltha with his staff; Path-Chak used his chatkcha to slit another's throat, and Weltha herself bashed in the last one's face with her forehead.

The drow and thri-kreen helped the duergar to her feet; as they turned to help Kezreck and Garadon Jaggedra Thul appeared in the cavern entrance- and opened her mouth to spew acid.

"Duck!" Shoutanei shouted, pulling the others down with him- but Thul's first burst of acid breath sailed right over them, as did the next two. Only when Shoutanei looked about did he see she was using her breath weapon to kill the closest growths of the magic-dispelling fungus- she could cast a spell but he could not; one arm was still useless so he couldn't wield his staff and make the gestures at the same time.

Thul snarled as she pulled forth her weapon of choice- the morningstar, a spiked metal sphere connected to a haft by a steel chain. As she approached the party she swung it in wide arcs, the sphere somehow sprayed their arms and bodies with black acid like what she spat on the fungus.

The half-dragon, half-drow grinned like a jackal as they crumpled to the floor, savoring in their vulnerability.

Then a crossbow bolt shattered against her scaled brow. Snarling, she looked up to see Corrag struggle to reload his crossbow. Shoutanei saw her distraction; with all the fury and what strength the wizard had left, he vaulted to his feet, staff in hand, he swung it toward Thul- and, like an undead wizard days before, caved her head in with one blow.

At first he couldn't believe he was the one still standing; his legs buckled under him but he was caught by Corrag, who pulled him further away from the magic-dispelling fungus, then gently lowered him to the floor before pulling the others away then giving a healing potion each to Weltha and Path-Chak. Once those two healed they set about to healing the others.

Once restored they headed to the very back of the fungal cavern to recover their mounts; at Shoutanei's insistence they rode back to where they dug into Baelmisar's crypt to make sure the other assassins were dead. They discovered the stone giant's belly clawed open, the innards missing; of Phauman all they found was an arm severed just below the elbow by large, sharp teeth. The creature that attacked the creature they heard Phauman call Drak had seemingly crawled back to wherever it came from, and that suited them just fine- they rode toward home.

From her compound in Veldrinor, Matron Mala looked upon the scene from her scrying bowl with the rest of her house gathered around her. Unbidden to her the spell terminated; she looked up, unable to hide the pure dread she felt.

The others who saw what she had felt it as well; one or two tried to delude themselves it was not as dire as it seemed but they knew Lolth was angry at the defeat of her assassins- and placed blame on the drow who called for them.

"Hashur!" Mala screamed; when nothing happened she yelled the imp's name again, but her summons went unanswered.

At that moment explosions sounded from just out the windows, followed by the screams of their soldiers engaging in battle- House Draristra was under attack.

A week later, Garadon fenced Baelmisar's crown, the gear they swiped from Jaggedra Thul's carcass along with Berkurt's sword (for which finding a byer was almost an adventure itself) and the gems scavenged from the enchanted suits of armor in the tomb that nearly killed them all. Corrag and Weltha took the proceeds from the gems as their cut, but there was enough to purchase what Shoutanei needed to enchant Path-Chak's gythka polearm. After just over three weeks of labor on the wizard's part the thri-kreen had a magic weapon, as did Kezreck and Garadon. The next time a group of spectres, or some other menace who shrugged off mere steel dare to set upon the dark fellowship, it would be in for a great- and likely fatal, surprise.


End file.
